


Okay, Cupid...

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, So Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 00:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras finds out that Grantaire has joined an online dating site. He doesn't take it very well, prompting Courfeyrac to return a favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Okay, Cupid...

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my own recent foray into the online dating scene. Enjoy!

This was not okay. This was the very opposite of okay. This was very, very, _very_ not okay.

Because Grantaire had an online dating profile. Which meant he was actively seeking people to date. He might _actually be going on dates_. With other people online. _Who weren’t Enjolras_.

So, no, Enjolras was very not okay with this at all.

Because Enjolras might like Grantaire as more than a friend. It wasn’t a big deal. He just had a little crush. It was nothing more.

Okay, so maybe he was little in love with the artist. Still, it didn’t matter. Because apparently Grantaire didn’t see Enjolras that way. Because if he _did_ , he wouldn’t be looking for romantic partners on the internet. Because Enjolras was _right in front of him_.

Which had led him here, wrapped up in a Snuggie, eating rocky road ice cream from a carton and binge watching The Office on Netflix.

And that was exactly how Combeferre and Courfeyrac found him.

Well, _found_ was probably a bad word for it. More like, Combeferre and Courfeyrac had tumbled into the apartment, and it was only after Combeferre had pinned Courfeyrac against the door that they noticed he was there.

Courfeyrac had shrieked when he caught sight of him once Combeferre had latched onto his neck. “Enjolras!” he cried, drawing Combeferre’s attention to their best friend sitting pathetically on the couch. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be working at the library tonight!”

“I called in sick,” he said miserably, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and turning back to the television, feeling tears prick his eyes as the camera panned to Pam watching Jim and Karen being all couply with sad eyes.

Jim wasn’t supposed to be with Karen. Jim was supposed to be with Pam. Just like Grantaire wasn’t supposed to be looking for someone to date online. Grantaire should be wanting to date _him_.

Then again, he was no Pam. Pam was funny and sweet and perfect. Enjolras was neurotic and socially awkward and said awful things at the _worst_ times.

Maybe Grantaire was Pam. Grantaire was all those good things. And he was an artist. But that sucked because Enjolras definitely wasn’t Jim.

“And are you sick?” Combeferre asked carefully, approaching the blond slowly.

“Heartsick,” he replied morosely, leaning into the other man as he settled down beside him.

“This must be bad,” Courfeyrac said, plopping down on the couch and wrapping his arms around Enjolras’ middle and laying his head on his stomach. “You’re acting like me.”

Enjolras didn’t even try to dispute that. Not when he remembered that this was pretty much the exact state he had found Courfeyrac in when he was under the delusion that Combeferre wasn’t just as head over heels for him as Courfeyrac was for him.

And if he recalled correctly, it hadn’t made Courfeyrac feel any better than it was making Enjolras feel.

“Want to talk about it?” Combeferre asked gently, carding his fingers through his curls. Enjolras sighed as he leaned into the touch, and couldn’t help feeling a little selfish. He was being surrounded by two people who probably loved him more than anyone had ever loved him, and it wasn’t enough.

“Grantaire’s dating other people,” he said sullenly, glaring at his melting ice cream.

Courfeyrac sat up suddenly and focused on Enjolras intently. “How do you know? Did you see him on a date?”

He shook his head. “No. I heard him and Eponine talking about his dating profile.”

“Like an online dating profile?” Combeferre asked for clarification.

He sniffled, fighting back tears once more, and nodded.

“That doesn’t mean he’s dating anyone, sweetie!” Courfeyrac cried, wrapping himself around Enjolras once more. “There are a million reasons he could have set up an online dating profile!”

“Really? Name one,” he challenged.

Courfeyrac bit his lip as he thought before shooting a desperate look up at Combeferre. “What he means is,” Combeferre said helpfully, “just because he has a profile doesn’t mean he’s actually dating anyone.”

“But he _wants_ to,” Enjolras exclaimed, slamming the ice cream carton onto the coffee table before jumping up and beginning to pace. Well, he _tried_ to pace. Unfortunately, one of his feet got caught in the stupid pillow-pouch thing of the Snuggie and the only reason he didn’t fall flat on his face was because Combeferre was quick enough to catch him.

“He’s _looking_ to date other people!” he continued, undeterred despite the fact that he was twisted up in the Snuggie and was struggling to get out. “Which means he definitely doesn’t want to date _me_!”

He continued to struggle with the Snuggie before Combeferre finally held him still and allowed Courfeyrac to free him. He sagged in defeat against Combeferre and buried his face in his chest as the tears finally flowed free.

“I love him,” he said meekly. “Why doesn’t he love me back?”

“Oh, Enjolras,” he soothed, wrapping his arms around him. “It’ll be okay. Why don’t you talk to him? Tell him how you feel.”

He shook his head vehemently. “I can’t!” he cried, looking up at them both in anguish. “Every time I talk to him, everything just comes out _wrong_! I see him, and all I want is to be with him, but I can’t _tell_ him that. Not after how I’ve treated him in the past, all the things I’ve said to him. I just get so _frustrated_! At myself for feeling this way, at him for _making_ me feel this way, and then at _me_ for blaming _him_. Fuck, no wonder he hates me!”

“Grantaire does _not_ hate you!” Courfeyrac protested.

“You’re right,” he conceded sadly as Combeferre sat them both down on the couch once more. “Grantaire’s too good of a person to hate me, but he probably should. But he doesn’t love me like I love him.”

“Isn’t that exactly what I said before Combeferre and I got together?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“And what did you tell me?”

“To not work yourself into a depression until I knew anything for sure,” he replied. “But that’s different because, one, I knew Combeferre was in love with you too, and two, Combeferre wasn’t seeing other people!”

“And what did you do after you found me sobbing on the couch?” Courfeyrac prompted.

“You _cried_ over me?” Combeferre asked, looking stricken at the very thought.

“Yes, and you can make it up to me later,” he said before looking expectantly at Enjolras.

He sighed. “I went to Combeferre and demanded that he told you how he felt.”

“Right,” Courfeyrac said curtly before stalking towards the door.

“Courf!” Combeferre cried, shooting him a warning look.

“Sorry, ‘Ferre,” he called, turning slightly and blowing him a kiss before grabbing his keys and rushing out.

Enjolras stared after him in stunned silence. Was he really so pathetic that even _Courfeyrac_ couldn’t stand to be around him?

He sniffled again before grabbing his ice cream from the table in misery. A warm blanket was draped over his shoulders and Combeferre pulled him close once more.

“So what season are we are?” he asked.

Enjolras was grateful for the change of subject, and leaned into the other man as he told them exactly what was currently happening at Dunder Mifflin Scranton.

#

Grantaire sighed as he checked his inbox. He was pretty sure that the reaction to people messaging him wasn’t supposed to be antipathy, but he really couldn’t help the unpleasant knot he got in his stomach every time he got a new one.

Don’t get him wrong. It was doing wonders for his self-esteem. Anyone would get a boost from a large number of guys messaging them about how attractive they were.

But none of them were _Enjolras_.

He closed his laptop in disgust. Eponine had thought joining an online dating site would help him get over Enjolras. Instead, it was just showing him how nobody quite measured up to the blond law student.

He stood up, thinking maybe he would just call it an early night, but his thoughts were violently interrupted as the door to his apartment was thrown open and a determined Courfeyrac stalked in.

He blinked at the other man, vaguely thinking that he needed to start locking his door. Last time Enjolras was here, he had gotten a lecture about that…

He really had to stop relating everything back to his Apollo or he would drive himself crazy.

“You have to tell him,” Courfeyrac ordered sternly, to Grantaire’s confusion.

“Um, what?”

“Enjolras, you have to tell him you’re in love with him,” he clarified, his gaze still unwavering.

“Courf, I—”

“Unless you _don’t_ love him anymore,” he said, his eyes betraying his uncertainty. “ _Please_ tell me you haven’t _really_ gotten over him and started dating other people! He’s already depressed and crying his eyes out at the _suspicion_ , don’t make me go back and _confirm_ it!”

“Wha… Enjolras is _crying_?” Grantaire asked, heart aching at the thought of those beautiful eyes filled with tears. “What happened? _Who_ made him cry?” he demanded, anger quickly flooding him at the thought of someone hurting his Apollo.

“ _You_ did, you idiot!” Courfeyrac cried in exasperation. “What the hell did you think would happen once he found out you were dating people who weren’t _him_? I know you have the right to do whatever you want with whoever you please, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt other people!”

“I’m not dating anyone,” he protested weakly, still trying to catch up with the conversation.

“But you have an online dating profile,” Courfeyrac stated.

Grantaire nodded. “Ep thought it’d be good for me. To maybe help me get over Enjolras.”

“I’ll be having words with her as well,” he muttered before glaring at Grantaire. “And have you?”

“Have I what?” he cried in irritation.

“Gotten over Enjolras?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I think it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a few messages from desperate singles looking to get into my pants for me to forget I’m in love with Apollo.”

“Great!” he said with a large grin. Grantaire was beginning to suspect the man was high. “Now get your ass in gear. We’re going over to Enjolras’ so that you can tell him that yourself.”

He grabbed Grantaire’s hand and had him half-way pulled out the door before the artist realized what was happening.

“What? No, I can’t do that!”

“Yes, you can!” he shot back, determination in his eyes. “My best friend is crying into his rocky road right now because he thinks the man he loves will never love him back. And once upon a time, our roles were reversed and he did what I’m doing for him now. So if you think _you’re_ gonna stand in the way of that, you’ve got another damn thing coming! Now get your shoes on!”

Grantaire was not ashamed to admit that he was a little frightened in that moment, so he promptly did as Courfeyrac asked.

#

When Courfeyrac came back with Grantaire in tow, Enjolras was mortified. He didn’t want Grantaire to see him like this! He looked _awful_! His hair was unbrushed, he was in ratty sweatpants, his eyes were red from crying… _God_ , what was Courfeyrac _thinking_.

Before he could demand answers, though, Combeferre had abandoned his place on the couch and Courfeyrac was already dragging him out the apartment.

“Feel better, E!” Courfeyrac called cheerfully before closing the door behind them.

He looked at Grantaire, who hadn’t moved very far into the apartment, seemingly rooted to the spot. God, what the artist must be thinking about him…

“I’m sorry Courfeyrac forced you to come,” he said softly, looking down and plucking absently at the edge of his blanket. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Fuck, _Enjolras_ ,” Grantaire breathed before crossing the room in three strides and wrapping him in his arms. “Like I’d leave you like this.”

A sick feeling washed through him even as he savored the feeling of Grantaire’s embrace. “I don’t need your _pity_ ,” he muttered but clung to him despite his words.

“I’m sorry. Shit, I’m _so_ sorry,” Grantaire said, pulling away slightly and framing Enjolras’ face with his hands.

His breath caught in his throat. No, this couldn’t be real. Maybe he had fallen earlier. Maybe he was in a coma and was dreaming. Because there was no way this was real.

“I love you,” Grantaire whispered, brushing a tender kiss to his forehead. Silent tears began falling down his face, but Grantaire kissed each one away reverently, murmuring a quiet “I love you” after each kiss.

“I love you too,” Enjolras said breathlessly once he realized he hadn’t replied. “Grantaire, I love you so much, but I thought… with the dating site…” He choked on the words, a fresh wave of tears flowing down his face.

“Hey,” he said, leaning their foreheads together and smiling. “I didn’t think you could love me in return. I was only on the site to get over you, which failed pretty spectacularly.”

“I’m glad,” Enjolras responded fiercely before cringing. “Not that you don’t deserve to find happiness and I would totally respect your choices even if you didn’t want to be with me. I just… Ugh! I’m sorry! I can never say the right thing because you’re _you_ and you’re wonderful and I’m usually good with words but around you I just… can’t. But I love you. I love you so much.”

Grantaire grinned at him. “I think those words are perfect,” he declared before closing the short gap between their lips.

Enjolras had thought about kissing Grantaire for a long time, but now that it was actually happening, he realized it was _so much better_ than anything he had imagined. He eagerly licked his way into the artist’s mouth, groaning as he was pulled more firmly onto the other man’s lap.

“Mmmm,” Grantaire said slyly as he pulled back to catch his breath. “Rocky road. My favorite.”

Enjolras blushed before capturing Grantaire’s mouth for another kiss.

He would _not_ tell Grantaire that he actually _hated_ rocky road and was only eating it because he knew it was _Grantaire’s_ favorite.

He was pretty sure he had already been pathetic enough for one day, thank you very much.

Fin.


End file.
